


measure by measure a pleasure

by tosca1390



Category: Psy-Changeling - Nalini Singh
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tosca1390/pseuds/tosca1390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I’m picking you up at seven.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Sienna tilts her head at him, gaze curious. “You really don’t need to go through the trouble,” she says evenly.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Hawke scowls and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “I want to,” he says, tipping his head up to the hard blue skies. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	measure by measure a pleasure

*

“I’m picking you up at seven.”

Sienna tilts her head at him, gaze curious. “You really don’t need to go through the trouble,” she says evenly.

Hawke scowls and shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “I want to,” he says, tipping his head up to the hard blue skies. 

Really, Indigo had smacked him over the head and said what kind of courtship was that you moron – and he had to agree. It hadn’t gone like anyone would have imagined. But the den is settled and the bumps in their road have been traveled if not gracefully than intact. Here is a way to begin to be better; here is a way to make her feel as important to herself as she is to him.

Ava calls out for Sienna and Sienna sighs, terror dormant in her cardinal gaze. “Don’t pick me up here,” she says, tapping his elbow. 

“No. From home,” he says, tasting it on his lips. Home, home is where she lives and breathes. Everywhere she is, is home to him; he hates how long it took him to come to that realization. 

She sighs and leans up for his kiss. “No flowers,” she says, touching his jaw lightly before she turns and goes back into the maternal workroom, her spine as straight as a steel rod. Her ruby-dark braid swings behind her. 

Hawke smirks and heads out of the den. No flowers? Yeah right. 

*

Promptly at seven, he knocks on his own door, feeling relatively like an idiot. The crisp white button-down is too stiff at his elbows, but Lara and Indigo both refused to approve of anything else. 

The door opens and Sienna’s dark gaze immediately flickers to the bouquet in his hands. She plants her hands on her hips, her skin pale against the deep blue of her summery sundress. “Those are flowers,” she says, a small smile playing at her lips. 

“Tough, baby,” he says, leaning into kiss her. The smell of autumn and spice fills his nose. “You’re gorgeous,” he says, handing her the bouquet of sunflowers. 

She puts her nose to the flowers to hide her flush. He can’t help but grin at that. “Coming in?” she asks, playing along as she saunters into their quarters and sets the flowers in a waiting vase. Her hair streams dark and loose over her back. 

“If I do, we won’t come back out. That defeats the purpose,” he says, chest tight with want. 

Shrugging lightly, she picks up her purse from the table and walks back to him, moving into the hallway and closing the door to their quarters. “So?” she asks, and he can almost taste her curiosity in the air. 

“Trust me,” he says with a grin, leaning into kiss her just once, just to have the taste of her on his tongue. 

As they walk through the corridors of the den, he takes her slim hand in his, lacing their fingers together. She says nothing, but he can feel the smile through the bond as it grows on her face. 

“This was a good idea,” she says as they slide into the car, her skirt riding dangerously high on her thighs. 

Hawke grips the steering wheel and glances at her, his mouth softening. He just – he loves her more than he can express, more than action or thought; the simple joy a date gives her brings him up short. Not for the first time, he wishes he hadn’t been so damn dumb. 

“It was,” he agrees, cupping her cheek with his hand for a brief moment before turning his attention to the opening garage door.

“Unless you’ve chosen a terrible place to eat. Then that might change my assessment.”

“You’re so hot when you talk Psy,” he teases, voice a growl. 

The hit to his shoulder is expected. But the hand that rests and lingers on his thigh is not. 

He smiles, casting a glance at her. It will be a good night. 

*


End file.
